Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Hard Work


When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: "Whose?"

-- Don Marquis

In this week's Sift:

  • Jobs. It's easier to understand which policies won't create jobs than which ones will.
  • Corporatism and Net Neutrality. The debate sounds technical, but it's really about creating choke-points and collecting tolls.
  • Short Notes. Can liberals draw a crowd in D.C.? Why does the media provide a free platform for corporate shills? Strippers protest an Ohio church. Two-year-olds on anti-psychotics. God is funding Joe Miller's Senate campaign. David Brooks says something uncommonly insightful about Glenn Beck's followers. Bad Christmas presents. And more.


Jobs

What better topic for Labor Day than jobs? Everyone seems to agree that there aren't enough jobs. But they disagree about whether and how the government can do anything about it.

Where are we? I love a good graphic, and this one explains where we are in the current recession compared to all the previous ones since World War II.

JobLossesAlignedAug2010.jpg

We're in an unusually long and deep drop. (The graphs show the percentage of jobs lost, which eliminates the effect of increased population.) In length it's looking about the same as the previous recession (2001), when it took about four years to get all the jobs back. In depth, it's the worst since the Depression.

We seem to be 6-8 months past the bottom, though the upward slope isn't very steep yet. Temporary hiring for the census created an illusion (that things were getting better faster a few months ago and that they're getting worse now) which is smoothed out in the dotted line.

Why? Popped bubbles lead to recessions that are fundamentally different from ordinary recessions, and recovery takes longer. Bubble-popping recessions include this one, the 2001 recession (the internet bubble), the Japanese "lost decade" of the 1990s (stock and real estate), and the Great Depression.

An ordinary recession is a normal part of the business cycle, caused by a temporary excess of production and inventory in an economy that is basically healthy. Businesses get over-optimistic during an expansion, so they build too many factories, open too many stores, and hire too many people. Eventually, some minor or accidental glitch causes consumers to slow down their spending. Then retailers cancel orders, factories lay off workers, and everything snowballs for a while, as each cutback causes more people to realize they're over-extended. Eventually, though, the overstocked inventory gets sold, factories get orders again, and everything straightens out.

That's what happens in the real economy. In the money economy, the ordinary recession produces a liquidity crisis -- people have assets of long-term value, but they need (or think they need) cash. So they try to sell things, driving prices down, and causing other people to want to sell things in a panic. Eventually wiser heads realize assets are cheap and start buying. Then the markets snap back like a rubber band.

An asset bubble, on the other hand, is based on fantasy and fraud rather than excess optimism. (The Dutch Tulip Mania of 1637 is the classic example.) In an asset bubble, large numbers of people imagine that they're rich -- and borrow and spend accordingly -- because speculators have bid asset prices up higher than any rationally foreseeable economic growth can justify. When the bubble pops, formerly "rich" people can't pay their bills, then the people they owe can't pay their bills, and so on.

In the financial economy, the asset bubble produces a solvency crisis. In a liquidity crisis, your creditors will get their money if they just wait until you can bring your long-term assets to bear. In a solvency crisis, you are actually broke; your debts exceed any rational valuation of your assets. The question in a liquidity crisis is "Who's willing to wait to get their money?" In a solvency crisis it's "Who's going to take the loss?"

The government can solve a liquidity crisis just by extending credit. (That's why the Federal Reserve was invented.) But extending credit during a solvency crisis just delays the day of reckoning. The books don't balance, and somebody has to take the loss.

Kinds of unemployment. One of the big debates now is about whether our unemployment is cyclical or structural. That sounds technical, but it's actually a pretty simple idea: Cyclical unemployment is the carpenter who will get back to work when the economy picks up and people start building houses again. Structural unemployment is the mechanic who sees gobs of want ads for nurses -- there are jobs, but not for him.

Cyclical unemployment is fairly easy to solve: The government runs a big deficit, lowers interest rates, and just generally pumps money into the economy. Imagine what would happen if somebody started shoveling five-dollar bills out of a helicopter: Pretty quickly the ice cream shop would have to hire back the scoopers it laid off.

Structural unemployment is trickier, because workers need to retrain. Government can help a little, but only after people get desperate enough to start over.

Paul Krugman has been arguing that our current unemployment is mainly cyclical, and that the problem with the stimulus is that it wasn't big enough. (He argued at the time it was proposed that it wasn't big enough.) Slate's James Ledbetter summarizes arguments that unemployment is increasingly structural. (The Economist is big on this idea and has been for months.)

The cyclical/structural distinction is related to the optimism/fantasy distinction: Bubbles distort the economy, and the jobs that go away when they pop don't necessarily come back. We had an irrational number of real estate agents, mortgage brokers, and home rehabbers in 2007, and a lot of them will have to find something else to do.

Still, it's obvious that unemployment isn't entirely structural, because there aren't any booming sectors screaming for qualified workers. My friends' kids are entering college now, and I don't know what they should study to be sure of getting a job.

What won't work: extending Bush's tax cuts. Few job-creating ideas are as delusional as extending the Bush tax cuts. Obama wants to let them expire for those making $250,000 or more (as he promised in the campaign). Republicans argue that restoring these Clinton-era rates will primarily raise taxes on small businesspeople, who are the primary creators of jobs. Keep their taxes low and they'll create the jobs the economy needs.

Not exactly. According to the WaPo's "5 Myths" column:

If the objective is to help small businesses, continuing the Bush tax cuts on high-income taxpayers isn't the way to go -- it would miss more than 98 percent of small-business owners and would primarily help people who don't make most of their money off those businesses.

Plus, the small-business-creates-jobs myth is only sort of true. A small business that is breaking out -- starting to franchise nationwide, say -- hires a lot of people. On the other hand, your basic family-owned restaurant or proprietor-operated shop might give the part-time help more hours if business picks up, but they rarely launch major expansions. And when they do expand, the trigger is increased consumer demand, not lower taxes.

A local friend verified this by talking to a number of proprietors on our Main Street. (Here in Nashua, Main Street is not a metaphor.) How many new people would they hire if they got a tax cut? Invariably, the answer was none.

What won't work: lower interest rates. Robert Reich takes apart the idea that lower interest rates will create jobs. In an ordinary recovery they will, but not in an asset-bubble recovery.

Usually, low interest rates create jobs in both a supply-side and a demand-side way. On the supply side, a business that wants to expand is more likely to do so if it can get a cheap loan. But, once again, if there's a shortage of demand, businesses aren't going to want to expand. Why build on to your restaurant if you can't fill the tables you have?

On the demand side, lower interest rates encourage people to borrow money to buy stuff. But:

Individuals aren't borrowing because they're still under a huge debt load. And as their homes drop in value and their jobs and wages continue to disappear, they're not in a position to borrow.

Reich sees two main results of lowering interest rates: First, a new wave of corporate acquisitions, which will have the effect of eliminating redundant jobs in the merged companies. And second, investment in new equipment that will replace workers rather than increase production. Net result: fewer jobs, not more.

What about Germany? Germany is often cited as an example of an economy that is recovering without a major government stimulus. Interesting story there: So far, Germany's recovery is better than ours in terms of employment, but worse in terms of GDP.

Two things are different about Germany: First, they didn't have a housing bubble, though their banks did get in trouble from investing in our worthless mortgage-backed securities.

Second, in the US, we let companies fire people and then paid them unemployment. Germany subsidized employment directly. NPR's Marketplace explains:

Workers are building fewer trucks because demand has dropped in half this year. But MAN says it hasn't had to lay off any of its permanent staff. That's because it's signed up for a government program called kurzarbeit, or short work. Workers take a cut in their hours and their pay. But the German government reimburses them for a chunk of their lost wages.
MAN spokesman Dominique Nadelhofer says employees may work as little as half time. But they still make 90 percent of their salary.

It's hard to say what lesson we should draw from that, other than maybe what we should do next time.

Conclusion: More stimulus would help some, but it's not clear how much, and besides, the political mood is very hostile. Democrats will do well to resist deflationary spending cuts. If the graph is right, employment should be back to 2007 levels in another year and a half.


In August, private employment went up by 67,000 jobs, but government employment dropped by 121,000 as temporary census jobs ended and the effects of the stimulus diminished. And this isn't encouraging: "while corporate profits were generally robust in the second quarter, many companies improved their revenues by cost-cutting."


Evidence of conservative framing success: The stimulus is often described (even in places like the NYT) as $800 billion of "federal spending". Actually it was about $500 billion of spending and $300 billion of tax cuts.


Slate explains where Labor Day comes from: After suppressing the Pullman strike, President Cleveland wanted to curry favor with workers. But the obvious May 1 holiday would have commemorated the Haymarket Riot.



Net Neutrality

DailyKos' Thutmose V posted a nice net-neutrality-for-dummies piece Monday.

Net neutrality is a good example of how corporatism works. Internet-providing corporations like Verizon and Comcast know why they care about the issue, and so they're relentless in lobbying for their interests. Most of the public doesn't know why they should care, and the eyes of the non-geek majority quickly glaze over when someone tries to explain.

As Thutmose makes clear, there is a legit reason why some internet traffic (like live video) would benefit if there were a high-priority lane on the internet, while other traffic (like email) wouldn't suffer if it were shunted to a low-priority lane and arrived a second or two later.

Regulations could be written to do this without fundamentally altering the nature of the internet. The Post Office, for example, has multiple classes of mail, but they don't deliver pro-Post-Office magazines faster than anti-Post-Office magazines.

But if the regulations are too loose, the internet corporations will gain vast new powers to prioritize however they like:

Imagine if Ford bought the Interstate Highway system, and announced that any car that was not a Ford would have to pay a high toll to use the highways. The Comcast NBC merger invites a similar situation with the Internet.  Does anyone think that Comcast might be tempted to give NBC priority on their network, and maybe charge anyone else providing [competing] content a high price to get on the net?

Comcast has disturbing history here.

Google was supposed to be a corporation whose interests coincided with consumers, but the Electronic Frontier Foundation isn't happy with the proposal Google worked out with Verizon. Google's interests are protected, but (according to MSNBC):

Skype would not have a chance to compete with any video telephony service Verizon might develop in the near future. And Netflix would be at a disadvantage trying to move high-quality video over Verizon’s fiber-optic pipes if Verizon decides to offer its own service.

Even if the corporations decide to play fair with each other, a fast-lane-slow-lane structure motivates them to keep the slow lane slow. The point here is to create many new choke-points where toll booths can be set up. That -- and not innovation and competition -- is how big corporations make big money.

For a trivial example of how corporate toll booths work, consider unlisted phone numbers. The LA Times' David Lazarus reports that the monthly cost of an unlisted number varies from $1.25 (ATT) to $1.99 (Time Warner Cable) per month -- in exchange for changing a bit in their database and then not publishing your number:

Time Warner and other telecom companies are charging for a service that consists of them basically not doing anything. And because they continue not to do anything month after month, they keep charging you on the grounds that it's a recurring service.

He points out that Time Warner Cable doesn't even publish a phone book -- it just distributes information to whoever has the local phone book contract. So the "service" is purely a toll TWC can charge because it happens to be the gate-keeper.

Kevin Drum elaborates:

phone companies are regulated monopolies. If I want phone service, I have no choice but to contract with a tiny number of suppliers who then have privileged information about me. Should I also pay them protection money for withholding my Social Security number or my date of birth from their phone books?

The job every corporation really wants is Gate Keeper. You do nothing, employ nobody, and collect tolls. Wait, I'm wrong, you do employ some people: lobbyists who help you create new choke-points where new gates can be installed.



Short Notes

I can't make it to D.C. on October 2. Can you?


We used to mourn when the independent bookstores were driven out of business by Barnes and Noble. Now we mourn when the Barnes and Noble closes.


The NYT had a "Room for Debate" feature on the great egg recall and what's wrong with the egg industry. Rather than discuss the issue, though, I want to step back and look at the contributors: a food safety activist, some university professors in relevant fields, and then a guy from the Cato Institute, a libertarian think-tank funded by the Koch brothers.

The Cato guy, predictably, says that "The Panic Will Subside" and so there's no need for new regulations. That's because Cato's mandate is not public health, but fighting government regulation of business. Every Cato article concludes that regulations are unnecessary, and the only mystery is how it will arrive at that conclusion. (This guy says that regulations will necessarily favor big egg producers over small ones. But of course Cato cares no more about small egg producers than it cares about public health. Whoever makes no-government-regulations a sympathetic position is Cato's new best friend.)

Here's my question: Why do we routinely let these guys into the room, even though they have no interest in solving the problem, whatever it is? Every well-rounded debate panel has to include a shill for our corporate overlords, who will argue in bad faith until he arrives at his pre-ordained conclusion. And we accept this without a second thought.


Second City Network gives its explanation for Jan Brewer's mental glitch during her opening statement at the Arizona gubernatorial debate.


An Ohio church protests the local strip club on Saturday nights. Lately the dancers have been returning the favor on Sunday mornings.


The Onion captures the spirit of bigotry perfectly in Man Already Knows Everything He Needs To Know About Muslims.


Disturbing article in Thursday's NYT about the growing number of very young children being prescribed anti-psychotic drugs. Given that my wife is a two-time cancer survivor and my parents swear by their anti-depressants, I'm usually unimpressed by articles about the evils of modern medicine. But this caught my attention:

A Columbia University study recently found a doubling of the rate of prescribing antipsychotic drugs for privately insured 2- to 5-year-olds from 2000 to 2007. Only 40 percent of them had received a proper mental health assessment, violating practice standards from the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry.

NYT columnists Gail Collins and David Brooks are mostly just fooling around during this conversation, but then Brooks lets loose the following bit of insight into the 8-28 Beck rally and the Tea Party mindset in general:

Every society has to engird capitalism in a restraining value system, or else it turns nihilistic and out of control. The Germans have a Christian Democratic set of institutions, enforced by law. The Swedes have their egalitarianism. Since the days of Jonathan Edwards, we have developed a quasi-religious spirituality that informally restrains the excesses of the market. God and Mammon are intertwined.
Many people feel that the values side of this arrangement is dissolving. Both the government and Wall Street are leaping into the void, to bad effect. … People like those at last weekend’s rally want the Judeo-Christian ethic back, which sweetened and softened life on the frontier (physical or technological). And so they march. They are only vaguely aware of this value system. It is so entwined into their very nature, they can not step back and define it. But they feel it weakening.
It might be possible for a responsible person to tap into this sense, but none has, so Glenn Beck has.

That's why I find Brooks to be the most frustrating columnist in America today. He'll write nothing but nonsense for months, and then off-handedly say something like that.


Check out Vanity Fair's look at Sarah Palin.


As best I can tell, this is not a joke: Alaskan Senate candidate Joe Miller wants you to help God fund his campaign.


It's never too early to start thinking about what not to get your little girl for Christmas..



The Weekly Sift appears every Monday afternoon. If you would like to receive it by email, write to WeeklySift at gmail.com.

 

Monday, August 30, 2010

Unseen Mechanisms

The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organized habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society. Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.

-- Edward Bernays, "the father of public relations" from his book Propaganda (1928)

In this week's Sift:

  • Why Democrats Are Always on Defense. You'd think a party with only 41 senators would be on the run, desperately trying to prove that it's still rational and relevant. You'd think that they'd have to come up with new ideas and prove to the electorate that they've changed. Nope. What makes Republicans so different from Democrats?
  • One Bad Egg Leads to a Half-Billion More. The guy behind the salmonella-tainted eggs is a serial rule-breaker, but he always makes more in profit than he pays in fines.
  • The King Legacy. Martin Luther King is now accepted as an American hero. So of course he would be a conservative today and would be proud that Glenn Beck is carrying forward his vision. Or something like that.
  • Short Notes. More pictures of the week. Scott Pilgrim. Fox News' terrorist prince. Bad colleges. What the stimulus really did. And more.


Why Democrats Are Always on Defense

When Democrats were completely out of power, in 2005 or so, we were always told we needed to "move to the center" to have any hope of coming back. We needed to say moderate things, keep our radicals in the closet, and compromise with Republicans to show how reasonable we were.

Then everything associated with the Republican went bust -- the wars, the economy, corruption in Congress, Katrina -- and the tables turned. Landslide Democratic victories in 2006 and 2008 put the Republicans even further out of power than the Democrats ever were. Obama's 2008 victory margin was many times Bush's 2004 margin. The Democratic majorities in both houses of Congress were bigger than anything the Republicans had mustered.

So what did Republicans do? Rethink their agenda? Compromise? Shift left? Nope. They've voted No on everything, they've got their wildest and wooliest we-make-our-own-reality candidates out there, and some current projections have them retaking the House. What's more, they seem to have control of the national conversation: If they want to make the so-called ground zero mosque an issue, then it's an issue.

How does that work exactly?

George Lakoff explains, using his often-misunderstood model of frames.

The frustrating and somewhat ironic thing about being a Lakoff fan (as I have been for years) is that the theory of frames is so often mis-framed as sloganeering, as if it denied the importance of real ideas and proposals.

Let me see if I can frame framing better than Lakoff usually does. Suppose you're a 20-something guy working in an office with a woman you'd like to go out with. It's not an unreasonable idea: you have pleasantly shared a cafeteria table a couple of times. Now, there are at least four different ways she could picture your relationship: (1) co-workers who get along; (2) co-workers who could become friends outside the office; (3) co-workers who could become a couple; and (4) stalker and victim.

Those are frames -- large-scale templates into which events and conversations can be placed -- and they are all in her head already, simultaneously. So as you look for  ways to get her attention, things to talk about, activities to suggest, favors to do, or other ways to show interest, the goal is to activate (3), not get trapped in (1) or (2), and make sure (4) never crosses her mind.

That way of strategizing is very different than just "having a good line". (Lakoff would call the good line "messaging", not "framing".) And it's not magic: If (3) isn't in her head at all, or if she's already concluded that (4) is going on, nothing is going to work.

OK, translate to politics. Lakoff is convinced that on most issues a large number of Americans are "biconceptual". In other words, they can picture the issue more than one way, and support different outcomes depending on how they picture it. Depending on how the topic comes up, they might picture unwed teen mothers either as Bristol Palin or as slum-dwelling drug addicts. What they say should be done about unwed teen mothers could be very different in those two conversations.

So now imagine you're a liberal trying to pass a teen-pregnancy bill. You could take a poll of four proposals and put forward the most liberal one that gets majority support. That approach is currently seen as "practical" and "realistic". But it takes the national conversation as given. It doesn't even consider the question: How many people could support the proposal I really want if I changed the national conversation?

Worse, it ignores this possibility: Coming out in favor of the poll-supported moderate bill could in itself change the national conversation in a way that invalidates the poll. Maybe you'll move the whole conversation to the right so that it then becomes "practical" for you to take an even more conservative position.

For example, you can see that happening in the ground-zero-mosque issue, where starting the conversation in four different places leads to four different conclusions:

  1. Muslims share the same religious freedom all other Americans have. (So: their beliefs should have nothing to do with what they can build.)
  2. Muslims were responsible for 9-11. (So it's not appropriate for them to build close to Ground Zero. Let them build the Park 51 project somewhere else.)
  3. Some American Muslims are loyal to our country and some aren't. (So you have to look at the background of the Cordoba Initiative and Imam Rauf before deciding whether they should be allowed to build anywhere.)
  4. Muslims can't be good Americans because America is at war with Islam. (Mosques by definition are recruiting centers for terrorists, so the fewer that get built, the better.)

Lots of Americans are biconceptual about this: They could see the issue more than one way. But if you take a poll, (1)&(2) put together give you a majority. So a "practical" Democrat does what Harry Reid did and comes out for (2). Nod towards the constitutional right to build as in (1), but recommend that Imam Rauf be wise enough to build somewhere else.

But look how that changes the conversation. Now all the Democrats supporting (1) have to explain why they can't be as "reasonable" as Reid, and Republicans who support (2) will have to face the dreaded "So you agree with Harry Reid?" Also, Reid has unintentionally validated a lot of people's vague notion that Islam is not like other religions, so support for (3) and (4) goes up. And people who promote (4) are emboldened, knowing that the principled opposition to them is crumbling.

I don't have data to back this up, but I believe that by adopting the poll-driven position, Reid and other "moderate" Democrats have changed the poll. The center is now moving towards (3).

This happens on issue after issue. On health care, it happened many times: One "compromise" position after another got recast as the socialist government take-over.

Republicans never make this mistake. They have a few very abstract basic frames, like "taxes and regulations hurt the economy"; "traditional values make society strong"; "America's enemies are insane or evil, so they have to be intimidated, not reasoned with"; and a handful of others. Everything they do gets couched in those terms, so they are constantly building those ideas up. When the electorate goes against them, they don't compromise, they try to turn the conversation back into channels that work in their favor.


One reason conservatives can function differently is that they have a huge infrastructure. Out-of-office Democrats disappear from public view or sell out to corporate interests as lobbyists, while out-of-office Republicans like Palin and Huckabee and Rove get showcased by Fox News. Staffers of defeated Democrats have to pound the pavement looking for their next job, while Republican staffers have jobs waiting at Cato or Heritage or one of the other think-tanks.

That conservative infrastructure requires lots of money, and they don't get it by passing the hat among ordinary Americans. Naturally, a lot of it comes from corporations, but a lot also comes from individual billionaires.

A recent New Yorker article by Jane Mayer profiled one of the biggest sources: the Koch brothers, owners of Koch Industries, the second-largest privately held corporation in America. (Sift readers already knew about the Kochs -- pronounced "Coke" -- from a Greenpeace report I pointed you to in April.)

A 2004 report by the National Committee for Responsive Philanthropy, a watchdog group, described the Kochs’ foundations as being self-serving, concluding, “These foundations give money to nonprofit organizations that do research and advocacy on issues that impact the profit margin of Koch Industries.”

Mayer quotes an environmental lawyer's account of how the game works:

You take corporate money and give it to a neutral-sounding think tank, [which] hires people with pedigrees and academic degrees who put out credible-seeming studies. But they all coincide perfectly with the economic interests of their funders.


One Bad Egg Leads to a Half-Billion More

I wasn't going to say much about the massive egg recall, but Grist has three great articles on it. First, a clip of Michael Pollan (The Omnivore's Dilemma) talking to CNN's Sanjay Gupta:

Cheap food is wonderful. We all like cheap food. But we have to understand that when we're spending billions to deal with a salmonella outbreak, it isn't really as cheap as it seems.

Stephen Budiansky's NYT piece extolling the efficiency of factory farming (Math Lessons for Locavores) drew an intelligent response from Tom Philpott: The half-billion egg salmonella recall illustrates that efficiency cuts both ways. A small number of vast, interlocking producers is an efficient way to distribute pathogens as well as eggs.

And finally, Grist profiles Jack DeCoster, the guy behind the half-billion bad eggs. He's a bad egg himself, responsible for a long series of health, environment, and worker-safety violations going back to 1996. He's paid millions in fines, but that's just part of the cost of doing business.



The King Legacy

Saturday was the anniversary of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream Speech". So of course a lot of white people got together on the spot of Dr. King's speech to listen to Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin.

Beck said the date-and-place correspondence was unintentional. (Actually, he attributed it to "divine providence". God doesn't let anything happen to Beck accidentally.) But then he decided it was appropriate because "Blacks don't own Martin Luther King." Which brought this response from Jon Stewart:

Black people don't own Martin Luther King. White people own … Oh, wait. … That's not right.

But Glenn feels he has to speak out to defend Dr. King's legacy because

Far too many have even gotten just lazy, or they have purposefully distorted Martin Luther King's ideas of "judge a man by the content of this character." Lately in the last twenty years we've been told that character doesn't matter.

I often wish real life were like Wikipedia, and I could just insert a [citation needed] at points like this. Has anyone ever seriously put forward the idea that "character doesn't matter"? Who? When?

Beck claimed King's legacy even more emphatically on May 26.

We are on the right side of history. We are on the side of individual freedoms and liberties and damn it, we will reclaim the civil rights moment. We will take that movement because we [citation needed] were the people that did it in the first place.

No idea what he's talking about there. (The people who actually "did it in the first place" have a web site.)

This much is clear: The Right may have harassed and vilified King while he was alive, but now that he is safely dead (and, they hope, remembered only as a collection of sound bites) they want to give him a conservative make-over. (I've commented elsewhere on the make-over Beck has given Thomas Paine.)

And it's surprisingly easy: After you have co-opted words like character and freedom and God, you have the high ground and your tanks can roll on to conquer King's legacy at will.

After all, King ended his speech by dreaming of a day when all people could join in singing:

Free at last. Free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.

And isn't that just what Beck and the other Tea Party folks stand for? After all, what could King possibly have meant by free if not free from taxes, free from unions, free from foreign languages, free from having to explain gays to your kids, free to keep mosques out of your neighborhood, free from scientific facts you don't want to believe, free to work in unsafe conditions if you want to (or if you can't get a job anywhere else), free to go without health insurance, free to say "nigger" or any other word you feel like saying (and free from criticism if you do), free to refuse service to anybody you don't like, free to put as much CO2 into the atmosphere as strikes your fancy, and so on.

You know, free. Like Martin said. Free at last.

I'm not even going to argue about it right now, because even that misses the point. Having a he-said-she-said struggle over King's legacy is a poor way to celebrate King's legacy.

Here's what I think people should do in honor of the Dream speech: Read it. Or listen to it. Don't let Martin Luther King become a symbol that people fight to own, like the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Let him continue to be a voice that we listen to. Read the ten demands of King's March on Washington (including #7: "A massive federal program to train and place all unemployed workers — Negro and white — in meaningful and dignified jobs at decent wages.") Read the Letter from the Birmingham Jail. Pick some speech or sermon of King's at random and read it.

See for yourself.


I went rambling through the KIng speeches and found this one delivered in Grosse Pointe, Michigan a month before his assassination. This part seemed relevant to current arguments between moderate and liberal Democrats:

We started dramatizing the issue of the denial of the right to vote and I submit to you that three months later as a result of that Selma movement, the same President who said to me that we could not get a voting rights bill in that session of Congress was on the television singing through a speaking voice "we shall overcome" and calling for the passage of a voting rights bill . . . and we did get a voting rights bill in that session of Congress. Now, I could go on to give many other examples to show that it just doesn't come about without pressure


Short Notes

Ghost Day in Taiwan, Festival of the Tooth in Sri Lanka, lightning on Lake Geneva -- it's just another Week in Pictures.


Two reviewers who take pride in missing the point: Don Hazen wishes for a Mad Men character "we can respect and cheer for" -- precisely the 21st-century time traveler that most period shows provide and Mad Men brilliantly does not. And Seth Schiesel is a gamer who doesn't grasp that Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is not about video games. (It uses the narrative motifs of video games to re-envision the romantic comedy.)

Scott Pilgrim, BTW, is the most original movie I've seen in a long time, and one of its video-game motifs solves a problem the romantic comedy has been struggling with for decades: the ending. Nobody really believes the happily-ever-after ending any more, but the romantic comedy has never come up with a replacement. So movies have been winking knowingly at happily-ever-after at least since that what-now series of expressions Dustin Hoffman flashed at the end of The Graduate. But they've been stuck with it.

In Scott Pilgrim, the star-crossed couple conquers its obstacles and gets to the door. What's behind the door? Obviously: the next level, whatever that may be. This video-game metaphor for success is the most satisfying and realistic ending a romantic comedy could have these days.


The photography and online video is stunning in the New York Times Magazine piece on the power game in women's tennis.


Last week I linked to Jon Stewart's demonstration of how Fox News' guilt-by-association methods could be used to link Fox News itself to terrorism -- through their parent company's second largest stockholder, Saudi Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal. (There's no particular reason to think the Prince is a terrorist, but he's easy to link to radical Wahhabist sects of Islam through his family.)

Well, Fox didn't learn its lesson. Last Monday morning, Fox & Friends was speculatively tracing the potential funding sources for the Ground Zero Mosque, and made sinister implications about the Kingdom Foundation, a Saudi charity headed by "a guy who … funds radical madrassas all over the world."

The "guy" was never named, but he turns out to be -- you guessed it, right? -- Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal. So Jon just had do a follow-up report suggesting that the way to shut off funds to the Ground Zero Mosque is to stop watching Fox News, because money they make goes to the Prince who might give it to the mosque project.

He went on to wonder whether the folks on Fox & Friends knew they were slandering their second-largest stockholder, and maybe that's why they didn't mention his name. He then brought two Daily Show regulars to discuss whether Fox didn't connect these dots because they were stupid and didn't know, or evil and intentionally hiding their own connections. John Oliver represented Team Stupid and Wyatt Cenac Team Evil.


Washington Monthly turns a searchlight on bad colleges that go on for years with microscopic graduation rates. It turns out that even among colleges that accept low-income students with low grades and test scores, graduation rates vary widely. Some colleges have graduation rates as low as 5%. And the difference isn't that they maintain high standards:

the colleges that successfully graduate low-income and minority students don’t ask less of them. They ask more. Researchers have found that more challenging coursework makes success rates go up, not down.

Why are these dropout factories tolerated? Why do they continue to get state funds and why are students allowed to waste government grants and loans on them? Because "the world is run by college graduates" who didn't go to such places and have no idea what goes on there. If you start with students nobody cares about and don't help them rise, nobody will hear about your failure.


Stephen Colbert takes on the how-Obama-can-prove-he's-not-Muslim problem. Solution: He needs to be more Christlike and let his enemies crucify him.


On OpenLeft, Paul Rosenberg brings Matthew 25:42-43 up to date:

I was unemployed and you called me a lazy good for nothing bum. I was old and you called me a "greedy geezer". I was a stranger, and you cursed me and cast me out. I was sick and you looked after the insurance company. I was in prison and you said, "Why isn't he dead"?

What did the stimulus do? A lot of good stuff.

The Weekly Sift appears every Monday afternoon. If you would like to receive it by email, write to WeeklySift at gmail.com.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Spirituality and the Humanist

Does "spirituality" mean anything? This talk comes out of a lunch I had with one of our congregation's more outspoken Humanists back in June. He said something I had heard from a number of Humanists over the years: He didn't care for all this talk about spirituality in our UU churches, because he didn't know what the word meant and he sometimes suspected that it didn't mean anything.

He's in good company there, because the pioneer Unitarian Humanist, John Dietrich, preached a sermon in 1929 called “What Does It Mean to Be Spiritual?”

just as your money may degenerate into a most deceitful piece of paper, scandalously suggesting a hoard of gold or goods that does not exist, so the word may become a delusive phantasy of the idea for which it once stood; and the feebler or the more dissipated the intelligence of a person or a generation, the greater the chance that mere words will pass as coin. Such a word preeminently is "spirituality." While no one is able to define it or has a concrete idea of what it means, yet it suggests at once an unction, an exaltation of emotion, a superiority which are associated with hardly any other words in the English language.

Now, I've also been involved in the polar opposite conversation, with people who complain that UU churches are not spiritual enough, but instead are head-centered, wordy, lifeless. They claim to be looking for a kind of depth that they don't find in Unitarian Universalism.

With apologies to John Dietrich, in general I don't find these spiritual seekers to be of “feeble or dissipated intelligence.” They seem to me to be expressing a sincere desire, and what's more, they believe that they are talking about something when they say spirituality.

Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean that they are talking about something. Deep feelings often get attached to words, but that doesn't prove that the words mean anything.

Christians, for example, feel deeply about the doctrine of the Trinity. But Thomas Jefferson was not impressed:

the ... paradox that one is three, and three but one, is so incomprehensible to the human mind, that no candid man can say he has any idea of it, and how can he believe what presents no idea? He who thinks he does, only deceives himself.

In other words, if you can't even hold an idea in your head, how can you have any opinion about whether that idea is true or false? You may feel quite sincere while you say, "I believe in the Jabberwock." But if you have no notion at all as to what a Jabberwock might be, then Jefferson would say that you are deceiving yourself. You have trained yourself to feel sincere about a collection of words, but you aren't actually talking about anything.

Ruining the conversation. Avoiding that problem is what definitions are for. So the first thing a Humanist might ask for in a discussion of spirituality is a definition.

I've seen that happen. At a church I used to belong to, the weekly discussion group devoted a session to spirituality. The first person to talk was a retired engineer. He opened a dictionary, read the approved definitions of spirituality, and wondered which of these meanings we would be discussing.

The conversation never recovered. Nothing throws cold water on a spiritual discussion like opening a dictionary. A dictionary is to spirituality as cold iron is to fairies or kryptonite is to Superman.

Now, why would that be? Two obvious explanations present themselves, the first being the one Dietrich was pointing to: Insisting on definitions kills a discussion about spirituality because the word doesn't really mean anything.

But there is a second possibility: Sometimes a topic gets framed so badly that the discussion just can't continue. I would guess that this has happened to most of us at one time or another. You're in a room with a group of people, and so many poisonous assumptions have already been baked into the conversation that there's just no point trying to sort it out. All you can do is back slowly away until you get to the door, and then run.

I'd guess that most of you know what I'm talking about, but you still may not see how pulling out a dictionary could create such a hostile environment. Why are spirituality and dictionaries so irreconcilable?

Taking the plunge. I don't know how to answer that question without going ahead and doing exactly what that engineer wanted. I'm going to hazard my own definition of spirituality – not with the idea that this settles the topic once and for all, but just so that I can explain why looking for a definition can be so problematic.

So here's my best shot: Spirituality is an awareness of the gap between what you can experience and what you can describe.

Now, that's probably not what you were expecting, so let me take a little time to point out the features of this definition. First, it is compatible with Humanism. There are no supernatural assumptions. You can seek this kind of spirituality with or without any gods or souls or spirits or afterlives.

Second, by defining spirituality as an awareness I've places it on the subjective side of things. Nothing is spiritual in and of itself. It can only be spiritual to somebody.

So spirituality is not a place like Shangri-La or Brigadoon, where other people can go, but for some reason they can't tell you where it is. And it's also not an activity like meditation or prayer or chanting or drumming. Any of those practices might raise a person's awareness of the gap between experience and description -- we'll get into how they might do that in a minute -- and so they might be spiritual activities for that person. But for someone else they might not be.

Another reason spirituality varies from person to person is that everyone is different in both the capacity to experience life and the capacity to describe it. And both capacities change as you learn and grow.

Sometimes as you learn and grow, experiences that used to be indescribable become describable; they used to fall into that gap and now they don't. For example, a stone-age tribe and a meteorologist experience a thunderstorm very differently. For the tribe it might be a deeply spiritual experience that evokes awe and wonder, while for the meteorologist the storm may be a simple application of a well-understood theory.

In Life on the Mississippi, Mark Twain relates how sunset over the river had once been an enrapturing experience for him -- until he was trained as a riverboat captain.

But as I have said, a day came when I began to cease from noting the glories and the charms which the moon and the sun and the twilight wrought upon the river's face ...

Then, if that sunset scene had been repeated, I should have looked upon it without rapture, and should have commented upon it, inwardly, after this fashion: This sun means that we are going to have wind tomorrow; that floating log means that the river is rising, small thanks to it; that slanting mark on the water refers to a bluff reef which is going to kill somebody's steamboat one of these nights

He goes on like that for some while, interpreting every little detail, and then wistfully concludes:

No, the romance and the beauty were all gone from the river. All the value any feature of it had for me now was the amount of usefulness it could furnish toward compassing the safe piloting of a steamboat.

In other words, a once-indescribable scene became instead pregnant with information that was very describable and quite useful – but not at all spiritual. Sunsets had not changed, but Twain had.

Sophistication can also work the other way, causing you to appreciate indescribable depths that the ordinary person takes for granted. Consider this curious little quote from the mathematician R. W. Hamming:

I have tried, with little success, to get some of my friends to understand my amazement that the abstraction of ... counting is both possible and useful. Is it not remarkable that 6 sheep plus 7 sheep make 13 sheep; that 6 stones plus 7 stones make 13 stones? Is it not a miracle that the universe is so constructed that such a simple abstraction as a number is possible?

Rather than making mysterious things seem ordinary, Hamming's mathematical sophistication had done the reverse: allowed him to experience counting as something strange and wonderful.

Testing against common usage. Now that I've explained the definition a little, let's think about whether I've gotten it right. The best test of a definition is to see how much of the common usage it makes sense out of. Bad definitions make everybody sound either stupid or crazy. Good definitions are like getting a radio station tuned in right: the horrible static goes away, and you can hear people talking.

I've been comparing this definition to common usage for a while now, and it seems to work pretty well. Think about the everyday experiences that people call spiritual: music and art, for example. Both have a lot to do with the indescribable. As Aldous Huxley said, “After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” Another experience people describe as spiritual is being out in Nature. And again, it has an indescribable quality: Anything you say afterwards – even the pictures you take – don't really capture it.

Because this definition implies no doctrine or dogma, it makes sense out of the people who say that they're “spiritual but not religious”. Spiritual seeking isn't a theology or even a search for a theology necessarily, it's a search for a certain kind of awareness.

Religion, in fact, can be anti-spiritual if it's too simple-minded. If a religion claims to describe everything that needs describing, if it wraps God up in a neat little box and leaves no room for mystery, it's not spiritual.

Ruining the conversation II. So now I think we're in a position to understand how a bad or careless or premature definition might wreck the whole spirituality conversation. If people are trying to raise their awareness of the things they don't know how to put words around, then demanding that they use words very precisely and stop using words if they can't explain what they mean – that pulls in exactly the wrong direction. The spiritual seeker doesn't want to talk about words and definitions; he wants to talk about the experience of having no words. And more than that: he wants to stop talking and invoke a situation that he will have no words to describe.

Spiritual practice. And that's what I think is going on in the so-called spiritual practices – the things people do to seek a spiritual experience.

Consider, for example, what happens (or doesn't happen) in a sitting meditation. Sitting meditations are designed to flatten out all the things you usually describe in a situation, so that they're not worth describing any more. When I'm in a sitting meditation, I'm

  • not accomplishing anything; I'm just sitting there

  • not talking or listening to anybody

  • not moving; meditation positions are designed so that (once you master them) you can stay in them for a long time

  • either not watching anything or watching something that doesn't move

  • breathing in a regular pattern; the same way each time

  • not intentionally thinking about anything or fantasizing anything

Anything I usually put into words about a situation – even just words in my own head – have been dialed down to zero. My internal narrator can't find anything to say other than, “Nothing is happening. Nothing is happening. Nothing is happening.”

So whatever I do experience during meditation – and there is always something to experience – falls right into that gap between experience and description.

The Value of Spirituality. Now, if I'm right about what spirituality is, what is the value of it? What is the value of meditating or chanting or a Japanese tea ceremony? Activities like that don't feed the hungry or promote justice or even make money. So what's the value of being aware of the difference between what you can experience and what you can describe?

For me, the main reason to seek out spiritual experiences is because that gap is where all my creativity comes from. My creative process – and I won't go so far as to say that everybody's creativity works this way, but I'll bet it does for a lot of people – is to stare into that Gap of the Undescribed until something crystallizes out of it and becomes describable for the first time.

If you've ever worked in mathematics or the sciences, you may recognize this experience: You work on a problem for a long time, and then you suddenly have a eureka moment, like Archimedes in his bath. Now, if you watch those moments carefully, you might notice this: There's actually a period of time, usually just a few seconds, after the eureka, where you still don't know what it is you've discovered. You know you've solved it, but you have to wait a few seconds before you know what your solution is.

It's like the ship coming across from the Undescribed has docked, but you haven't unloaded it yet.

The unspiritual life. Another way to appreciate the value of spirituality is to imagine the unspiritual life. It's not what you might think. The unspiritual life is not the the skeptical life or the scientific life or a life where you appreciate the value of facts and logic and evidence. None of that is unspiritual.

No, the unspiritual life is best summed up in a rhyme the students of Oxford's Balliol College made up about their college master, the 19th-century scholar Benjamin Jowett.

I am the master of this college
And what I know not, is not knowledge

The unspiritual life, which like most people I fall into from time to time, happens when I forget that there is any more to life than the things I can describe. Nothing seems to exist other than the things I have names for, those things don't have any relationships other than the ones I can put a word to, and those relationships don't evoke any emotions other than the ones I can list. Because what I know not is not knowledge.

That's the unspiritual life, and the fear of it is what drives people into spiritual practice or maybe even sends them to a church like this one looking for spirituality.

Bad spirituality. I wouldn't really have done justice to this topic if I didn't say a few words about bad spirituality and where it goes wrong. Bad spirituality tries to defend the gap between description and experience by shutting down the progress of description: Don't learn to pilot a riverboat, because you'll lose the sunsets. Don't let Galileo look through his telescope, because he'll screw up the mystery of the Heavens.

The mistake here is believing that mysteries are a finite resource that might get used up. A lot of Humanists hate to use the word faith, but I think it's appropriate here: I have faith that the mysteries we can experience are infinite and our powers of description are finite. We'll never run out of mysteries.

Bittersweet. I want to close on a more upbeat note, by giving you a very concrete example of spirituality.

Every now and then, something new comes over from the Undescribed. Something gets named that never had a name before, and now we can talk about it.

Those can be some of the most significant events in human history. Most of them are lost, but we do know one very important one: The Greek poet Sappho, sometime in the early 6th century BC, was writing about a lover who was far away. And she coined a brand new word to describe her feelings: glukupicon – literally, sweet-bitter, or as we say in English today, bittersweet.

No Greek – and possibly no human – had ever named an emotion quite that complicated before.

The image I want to close with is of Sappho just before she coined bittersweet. She is thinking of someone she loves, but can't talk to or touch. And she realizes that she can't describe the conflicted way she feels. It's bad, but it's good. It hurts, but she doesn't want it to stop hurting. In the whole Greek language, there is no word for that. So she just sits there for a moment and feels what she feels, without any words.

And then she has a eureka moment, when she realizes that she has thought of a new word to capture that strange new feeling. But there's a gap – a second, maybe two seconds, when she still doesn't know what word it is.

Those couple of seconds, I imagine, were a deeply spiritual experience.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Evolving Traditions

By marriage, the husband and wife are one person in law: that is, the very being or legal existence of the woman is suspended during the marriage, or at least is incorporated and consolidated into that of the husband. … The husband also (by the old law) might give his wife moderate correction. For, as he is to answer for her misbehavior, the law thought it reasonable to entrust him with this power of restraining her, by domestic chastisement, in the same moderation that a man is allowed to correct his servants or children.

-- Sir William Blackstone

Commentaries on the Laws of England (1769)

In this week's Sift:

  • Proposition 8 is Unconstitutional. The trial record may be as important as the ruling. If same-sex-marriage opponents think there's so much "evidence" supporting their position, why didn't they present any?
  • The Sift Bookshelf: The Living Constitution. An easy-to-read new book explains how interpretations of the Constitution legitimately change with time.
  • Ground Zero Mosque, Part II. "Opposing" the mosque can mean two very different things, but not many mosque opponents are making the distinction clear.
  • Short Notes. What Fox thinks of the 14th Amendment. China takes on bold new infrastructure projects, while we let things fall apart. Superman saves a home in the real world. A suggestion for protesting the Tea Party. Civil disobedience in Arizona. And where you can hear me next Sunday.


Proposition 8 is Unconstitutional

Every few months, it seems, the saga of same-sex marriage in California takes another twist or turn. Since the voters passed Proposition 22 ten years ago, there have been votes by the legislature, vetoes by the governor, civil disobedience by the City of San Francisco, a second referendum passing a constitutional amendment, and countless trips up and down the state court system.

By May, 2009, things had gone as far as they could at the state level: The voters had passed Proposition 8, which wrote one-man-one-woman into the state constitution, and the California Supreme Court had recognized its validity (while still upholding the 18,000 same-sex marriages performed prior to Prop 8).

At that point a liberal/conservative all-star team of lawyers decided to take the argument federal. Ted Olson and David Boies, who had been the opposing lawyers in Bush v. Gore, filed suit in federal court to have Prop 8 declared unconstitutional under the 14th Amendment, which guarantees "equal protection of the laws" and "due process of law" to everyone.

Wednesday they succeeded in their first step: Judge Vaughn Walker declared Prop 8 unconstitutional. (Judge Walker's ruling is long, but easy to read.)

As I explained last month after the Defense of Marriage Act was declared unconstitutional, just about all same-sex-marriage decisions hang on the same question: Laws that treat one group of people differently from another have to pass the rational basis test, which asks whether the law is "rationally related to furthering a legitimate government interest". Can a law banning same-sex marriage pass that test? What legitimate government interest is furthered by treating same-sex couples differently from opposite-sex couples?

This is why court decisions often come out differently than referenda: Voters don't have to answer that question. As Judge Walker put it:

The state does not have an interest in enforcing private moral or religious beliefs without an accompanying secular purpose.

The secular logic of Prop 8 hangs on some real-world questions about the institution of marriage, its effects on children, the nature of homosexuality, and so on. So Judge Walker held a trial to gather testimony on those issues.

Evidence-based knowledge vs. faith-based knowledge. Boies and Olson called a series of expert witnesses: historians to describe the long-term evolution in American marriage laws (allowing wives to own property, allowing interracial marriage, etc.) and the history of discrimination against homosexuals; demographers to compare same-sex couples to opposite-sex couples (they're not that different); economists to assess the impact of Prop 8 on the City of San Francisco (negative) and on same-sex couples and their children (also negative); social scientists to assess the affects of social stigma on gays and lesbians (bad), the impact of seven years of same-sex marriage on family issues in Massachusetts (negligible), and how children raised by same-sex couples compare to those raised by opposite-sex couples (not much difference); psychologists to discuss whether therapy can change a person's sexual orientation (it can't) and whether same-sex couples receive the same psychological benefits from marriage as opposite-sex couples (they do), and so on.

In other words, every question a reasonable person would ask about the impact of Prop 8 was answered by a professor of some relevant subject with peer-reviewed publications in the field, who cited actual research on the topic.

The defenders of Prop 8 did nothing of the kind. (The name of the case is Perry v. Schwarzenegger, but although California officials like Gov. Schwarzenegger and Attorney General Brown were named in the suit, they wanted no part of defending Prop 8. So the job passed to the people who got Prop 8 on the ballot in the first place.) They announced a number of expert witnesses, but only called two of them to the stand -- neither of whom was actually in expert in what he was testifying about, and one of whom, David Blankenhorn, doesn't seem to be an expert in much of anything. (This section of Judge Walker's opinion is a good primer on the legal definition of expert witness.) Rachel Maddow spent an entire segment of her show Wednesday making fun of Blankenhorn's "expertise".

WaPo's Jonathan Capehart commented:

if I were the conservatives I would troop back into court -- and sue the pro-Prop 8 attorneys for malpractice.

Here's an example from Judge Walker's decison:

At oral argument on proponents’ motion for summary judgment, the court posed to proponents’ counsel the assumption that “the state’s interest in marriage is procreative” and inquired how permitting same-sex marriage impairs or adversely affects that interest. Counsel replied that the inquiry was “not the legally relevant question,” but when pressed for an answer, counsel replied: “Your honor, my answer is: I don’t know. I don’t know.”

The impression the trial leaves -- and this may have political implications even if the ruling is overturned by the Supreme Court -- is that the logic of banning same-sex marriage is all 30-second sound bites and won't stand up to scrutiny. The Religious Right may claim that there is massive evidence ( James Dobson has claimed "more than ten thousand studies") relating same-sex marriage to dire outcomes for society, but when they had a chance to present their evidence in court, they folded.

As David Boies said on Face the Nation (in response to Tony Perkins of the Family Research Council):

It's easy to sit around and ... cite studies that either don't exist or don't say what you say they do. … But when they come into court and they have to support those opinions and they have to defend those opinions under oath and cross-examination, those opinions just melt away. And that's what happened here. There simply wasn't any evidence, there weren't any of those studies. There weren't any empirical studies. That's just made up. That's junk science. It's easy to say that on television. But a witness stand is a lonely place to lie. And when you come into court you can't do that.

This case may affect the overall national discussion in the same way that the Dover intelligent design case did. After a court show-down in which one side has no real evidence to present, it's hard for the media to go back to he-said-she-said coverage.

Marriage evolution. Testimony from the historians dismantled another standard talking point: That marriage has been one thing for thousands of years and now gay activists want to change it to something else.

To the extent that the phrase traditional marriage means anything at all, it refers to the kind of relationship this week's Sift quote describes: domination of the wife by the husband. Through all of American history marriage has been slowly evolving away from that: allowing wives to own property; letting them sign contracts and accept employment without their husbands' approval; protecting against domestic violence; recognizing marital rape; and so on.

As a result of that evolution, marriage laws no longer enforce separate gender roles. So the gender-specific titles of husband and wife no longer correspond to any legal rights or responsibilities not included in spouse.

Without that evolution -- in the 18th-century world of Blackstone's Commentaries -- Prop 8 proponents would be right: Same-sex marriage makes no sense if the law requires a dominant male husband and a submissive female wife; two men or two women can't do it.

But in marriage as it stands today (and how many people would really want to go back?) two men or two women can fulfill the legal roles of spouses as well as opposite-sex couples do. Laws that prevent them from doing so are relics of a system whose underlying logic was abandoned decades ago.

Impact. Ultimately this is headed for the Supreme Court, where (as Dahlia Lithwick explains) the case will be decided by Justice Kennedy, the Court's swing vote.

If the Supreme Court reverses Judge Walker, the impact of would not be as great as some people seem to think. It would be harder for a future Supreme Court to find protection for same-sex marriage in the 14th amendment, but state legislatures could still recognize same-sex marriage and state courts could still find a same-sex couple's right to marry in their state constitutions.


Rather than take on the evidence, most "family values" spokesmen attacked the judge: He's gay. And all those professors of whatever who testified? They're gay too. What more do you need to know?


While Boies does CBS, Olson is handling Fox.


Stephen Colbert sees Judge Walker's decision as "Arma-gay-ddon".


Humorist Andy Borowitz explains why most marriages are already gay:

"Soon after marrying, most men stop hitting on women and start shopping for furniture," Dr. Logsdon said. "Scientifically speaking, how gay is that?"


I'm coming to like NYT's conservative columnist Ross Douthat even though I seldom agree with him. He consistently offers something genuine to disagree about, and doesn't just spout nonsense and make stuff up.



The Sift Bookshelf: The Living Constitution

The Living Constitution by David Strauss is the best popularization of constitutional law I have read. It is short (139 pages of 300-350 words each), readable, and well organized. Best of all, it does something important: debunks the theory of constitutional interpretation that you most commonly run across in the media (originalism) and provides an alternative that makes sense out of what the courts have been doing for the last 200-or-so years.

Let's start with originalism. This theory says that the Founders had a definite idea in mind when they wrote each line of the Constitution, and that the role of a judge is to ascertain that idea and apply it to the case at hand. There are two problems with originalism: (1) it's impossible to carry out; and (2) it violates Thomas Jefferson's principle that the dead should not rule the living. (De-sound-biting that a little: The democratic principle of "the consent of the governed" doesn't mean much if the consent was given once and for all in 1787.)

Strauss brings home the impossibility of knowing the Founders' original intent by recalling what Americans went through in the 1970s around the Equal Rights Amendment. (The ERA was passed by Congress in 1972, but fell just short of ratification by 3/4 of the states, so it is not part of the Constitution now.)

If the ERA had passed, originalism would have future judges try to ascertain and apply what the people alive in the 1970s had "intended" by it. That's laughable to anybody who lived through the 1970s, because to a very large extent we didn't know. (I remember hearing long arguments about whether the ERA would force all bathrooms to be unisex.) Different people intended different things, and we couldn't agree on what the ERA would mean even for the situations we could envision, much less situations that might arise in 200 years.

I know the founding generation was supposed to be full of giants, but were they really that much more self-aware than the Americans of 1972?

So, if we admit we can't always find a well-defined meaning by recreating the mindset of 1787, how are we supposed follow the Constitution? Well, some things are obvious, like a president's term lasting four years or senators needing to be 30 years old. But how "freedom of the press" applies to the Internet, or exactly what constitutes "abridging the freedom of speech" -- now or in 1787 -- requires some interpreting. How do we do it?

The defenders of originalism say that the only alternative is anarchy; the law will be whatever the current judge wants it to be, until he's overruled by some other judge.

Strauss describes the alternative method of common law, a pre-constitutional process we inherit from England. Under common law, a judge considers how similar cases have been decided in the past. And if there's still wiggle room, s/he resolves it by applying more abstract principles of justice, fairness, and common sense to the facts of the case at hand. For centuries, common law provided a workable legal system even in situations where there was no written law.

Strauss claims that this is in fact what our courts have been doing for the last two centuries: applying the text of the Constitution when it is clear (four-year presidential terms), consulting precedents to interpret provisions that are not clear (abridging freedom of speech), and attempting to resolve the remaining uncertainties with justice, fairness, and common sense.

A written constitution combined with a common-law method of interpretation produces a "living constitution" -- one whose meaning evolves from generation to generation.

Strauss' examples are the best part of the book. He devotes a chapter to Brown v. Board of Education, the 1954 Supreme Court decision that desegregated public schools. Half a century later, everybody likes the Brown decision. But it clearly violated originalism: Hardly anybody who voted for the 14th Amendment in 1868 thought they were voting for desegregation.

On the surface, Brown also violates common law, because it reverses a precedent rather than following it. The key precedent in this case isPlessy v. Ferguson, an 1896 decision saying that the 14th Amendment's promise of "the equal protection protection of the laws" can be satisfied by facilities that are "separate but equal".

Looking deeper, though, Strauss shows that the 1954 Court was not just saying "Our moral values are better than the 1896 Court's moral values." He goes through a series of cases between 1896 and 1954 in which the Court tried to make separate-but-equal work. In case after case, it decided that the specific separate arrangements at hand (mostly concerning segregated law schools) were not equal. If you collected all those precedents, it became hard to imagine how to design racially separate facilities that the Court would consider equal.

So when the 1954 Court says that racially separate schools can't be equal, it isn't pulling that conclusion out of its own sensitive conscience. Instead, it's amalgamating the conclusions of many specific cases decided since 1896, and coming up with an interpretive scheme that retroactively explains those decisions better than separate-but-equal did.

That's how the common-law method works: You stick with an interpretation until the exceptions start to overwhelm the rule, and then you come up with a new interpretation that handles the exceptions better. It's flexible enough to evolve through accumulated experience, but it's not open to individual whim.



Ground Zero Mosque, Part II

Since I first wrote about the Ground Zero Mosque two weeks ago, more people and organizations have come out against it -- bigots and right-wing extremists, of course, but also people who should know better like the Anti-Defamation League, John McCain, and the Wiesenthal Center.

Their statements all fudge an important issue: When you say you're "against" the mosque, do you mean "I wish the people building it would reconsider" or do you mean "I want the government to stop them"? The first expresses sympathy for the people who feel insulted by the mosque; the second attacks religious freedom in America and sides with anti-Muslim bigots.

It's important to be clear about this. Whenever a minority tries to exercise its rights, it's going to be unpopular. In such a climate, announcing that you oppose their efforts is going to encourage bigotry, even if you claim that's not your intention and even if you word your statement carefully. The headlines you generate are more important than your precise phrasing. The ADL should know that from its own experience battling anti-Semitism. (Some other Jewish groups have supported the mosque project.)


In response to the ADL's statement, CNN's Fareed Zakaria returned an award and honorarium the ADL gave him five years ago.


The poll showing that New Yorkers oppose the mosque fudges the same issue. The question asked was:

Do you support or oppose the proposal to build the Cordoba House, a 15 story Muslim Cultural Center in lower Manhattan 2 blocks from the site of the World Trade Center?

I wonder if you could get the opposite result ("New Yorkers Support Mosque") by asking Mayor Bloomberg's question:

Should government attempt to deny private citizens the right to build a house of worship on private property based on their particular religion?


Short Notes

It's striking how much of this Sift revolves around the 14th Amendment, or, as Fox & Friends calls it, "the anchor baby amendment."


Here's one way in which China has already replaced the United States as the leader of the world. A few decades ago, if you saw plans for some crazily futuristic public-works project, you knew it had to be in America. Now it has to be in China.

Check this out: Train-car-sized buses that use the same right-of-way as ordinary highways, but they sit up so high that cars drive under them. They're like rolling overpasses. More artist-conception pictures here. Construction in Beijing is supposed to start later this year.

Meanwhile, our cities are turning off streetlights and breaking up roads because we're not willing to pay taxes to maintain them.


In the real world, a family home facing foreclosure is not usually considered a job for Superman. Except this one time. A previously unexamined stack of old magazines in the basement turned out to include a copy of Superman's debut comic, Action #1. It's expected to bring $250,000 at auction.


Jesus' General is normally a satirist, but he seems serious about this suggestion: Go to a September 12 Tea Party rally and burn a Confederate flag in protest.


The parts of Arizona's immigration law that were not thrown out by the courts went into effect July 29. Resistance to the law has also begun.


If you happen to be near Bedford, Massachusetts around 10 a.m. next Sunday morning, come listen to me preach on "Spirituality and the Humanist" at First Parish Church.

The Weekly Sift appears every Monday afternoon. If you would like to receive it by email, write to WeeklySift at gmail.com.